


Hand Of Fate

by Hekate1308



Series: The Crowley Chronicles [41]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 13, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 11:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18799246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: So, it seems he has gone mad after all, because Dean is doing this.Crowley survival story.





	Hand Of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I just wanted to write a quick fic. Ah well, still hope you enjoy this!

It is one thing to be desperate. Dean knows the feeling.

But Sam’s insistence over the last few weeks that they go through every single book in the library to try and find a way to rescue Mom is a bit much.

Especially because in his heart of hearts, he is sure she is dead. Or at least gone.

He just can’t bring himself to tell his little brother that, considering everything, there was little difference she made in their lives.

Still – if it helps –

And so, he keeps doing what Sam is adamant they should until one day his brother returns triumphant, bearing the news of an ancient artefact that the Men of Letters wrote about but apparently never laid hands on. “It’s the Hand of Fate.”

“Sounds great.”

Sam frowns. “It’s a plan.”

“Let me check…” Huh, actually a severed human hand. Well, Dean has seen weirder. Apparently, their old pal Atropos touched it at one point and that gave it superpowers.

Although… “Sammy, it says here that it can connect those who have a strong, well, connection…”

He expects to be told off for his repeated use of the word, but instead Sam says, “And? She’s our mother!”

Yes, she is – _was_ – is. But that doesn’t mean she understood them, or that _they_ ever understood _her_. Learning that she didn’t know how to cook was just the tip of the iceberg.

Dean knows this. He knows this because Dad never got him either, if he’s being honest with himself.

But Sammy wants to try, so they are going to try.

As it turns out, the Hand showed up a few years again at an auction and is now housed in a museum in Massachusetts, of all places. They don’t really have much of a security system, if you overlook the one sole night guard they pay to walk around with a flashlight, so stealing it is like taking candy from a baby.

However, when Sam, eager to use it, writes down the ritual – seems like they need to build a triangle of three things that belonged to the person they are trying to reach and put the Hand in the middle, holding a burning candle – Dean has an idea. “Say, Sammy, what do you think about making a trial run?”

“A trial run?”

“Yes. For –“ he swallows, another surge of grief making it difficult to speak for a moment. “For Cas.”

Sam’s eyes soften. “Dean, Cas is gone. We burned his body.”

“Yes, but this is supposed to bring anyone back who has a “connection” to us, right? And Cas always said we had a “more profound bond” or whatever.”

Sam thinks about that for a moment then sighs “Alright” in that tone he uses when he has decided to indulge Dean, but who cares. They have to try. Especially since this Hand thing seems to come without repercussions, which is rare enough.

And so, Dean does the necessary preparations. One of the three things is of course Cas’ angel blade; then there is the laptop he used when he wanted to watch Netflix; and then –

“Dude, is that a pillow?”

Dean shrugs. “You know he likes to lounge around on his bed when he has the time.” A part of him reminds himself that there is no reason to talk of Cas in the present tense, they have no idea if this will work after all, but he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it.  

Sam seems to concede the point and they perform the ritual.

Even if Dean would still allow himself to hope – he makes a point of not hoping, these days – he wouldn’t have believed how easy it is.

A flicker of the candlelight, a light puff, and – there he is.

He blinks at them. “Dean? Sam?”

Dean is quick to wrap him up in a hug. “Welcome back, man.”

It’s of course not quite as easy as that – Cas is understandably confused, and the Hand apparently can only be used a few times before the power fizzles out forever, so trying to get everyone they have lost over the years back is out of the question.

Still. Cas is back. That’s a lot, if you ask Dean.

* * *

 

It’s a good thing they first brought Cas back, because, as Dean knew deep down it would, attempting the same with Mom only results in failure. It starts with the fact that there are barely three objects in the bunker – hell, maybe the world – Mom considered of importance to her; and then – well –

Dean sees the knowledge in Cas’ eyes, the knowledge that try as they might, they never did connect with her the way they did with Bobby or Jody or Cas or –

But Dean doesn’t go there. That way lies madness.

* * *

 

So, it seems he has gone mad after all, because Dean is _doing this_.

Sam has been busy with research – doing everything he can to find out whether there might be exceptions to the rules, and if so, how to circumvent them – Cas has slowly been getting his bearings, and Dean, well…

In his defines, he tried very hard to convince himself not to try this. After all, it means using one of the precious few times they can use the Hand on – on –

He looks down at the circle.

A half-empty bottle of Craig that really, he should have thrown out long ago, a bullet from the now long-gone Colt, and Juliet’s collar.

She showed up at the bunker a few weeks after Crowley’s death; Sam told Dean to deal with her, since she seemed rather attached to him (he never thought he’d see the day when a hellhound acted like a scared puppy looking for its owner, but here they were). He really did take her out in the woods to do just that – deal with her – and instead ended up taking off her collar and letting her roam free. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t.

Somehow, it was a strange comfort to think that a part of Crowley is still out there.

And at least he’s got three things, now.

He’s doing the ritual in the middle of the night in his room, but he probably shouldn’t be surprised when Cas knocks. “I knew before you did” is all he says as he slips in and gently closes the door behind him.

Dean nods.

And then he performs the ritual.

Now, this hole “connection” thing isn’t really explained well in their sources, and even if it were, he doesn’t really know if he’d go so far as to say that he and Crowley were friends; but they knew each other for almost a decade, and he certainly wouldn’t have called them –

Another small puff and then a demon in a dirty suit is staring at them. “What the – Squirrel?”

“Crowley.”

He turns his head. “Feathers?”

“Crowley.”

He seems about to say something, then just shakes his head and snatches the bottle of Craig off the floor. “I need a drink.”

“I think we all do” is Dean’s reply – for lack of anything else to say, really.

* * *

 

“The Hand of Fate. I’d heard rumours, of course, but didn’t think it’d just show up out of the blue.”

Dean shrugs. “Sometimes even we get lucky.” It’s a pathetic attempt at a joke, and Cas and Crowley barely react to it.

Crowley frowns. “But I thought there had to be a certain connection between the person someone is trying to save and –“

“Crowley, I think it is sage to say that “that ship has sailed”” Cas interrupts him, using his quoty fingers once again.

He is silent at that – well, for a second, then he starts to complain because – well it’s Crowley and if he _wouldn’t_ be complaining about something, Dean would be worried. “What’s Juliet’s collar doing here? You didn’t –“

“No” he hastens to say. “I am pretty sure she’ll show up now, anyway, since you’re back.”

She certainly seemed to know where to turn to back when she first appeared.

“She better.”

Dean groans. “Crowley, come on –“

“Thank you.” The demon seems surprised at himself, and Dean can’t say he’s seen that coming, either – although none of them knew if he just thanked him for sparing Juliet or bringing him back.

“Yeah, well – “

And then all three of them are just sitting there awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed.

At least that decision is taken from them, however, when suddenly, he hears his brother say, “I heard voices and wondered – Crowley?!”

Dean winces and readies himself for a fight, but when he glances at the demon, there is a hint of mischief in his eyes that turns his own smile genuine as he addresses Sam, “Yeah, about that…”


End file.
